


it's cruel to tame a thing that don't know its strength

by Mattition



Series: The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does. [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Animal Play, Collars, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dom/sub, M/M, Master/Pet, Penis In Vagina Sex, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Elias Bouchard, Teasing, Tickling, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, gender stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattition/pseuds/Mattition
Summary: “Mon petit, you can be pretty if you want. I want to see you be pretty.”“You just want to fuck me while I wear cat ears,” Jon rebuts sullenly.“It can be both.”
Relationships: Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043436
Comments: 23
Kudos: 93





	1. my kind companion | softens stone

**Author's Note:**

> CW: gender negotiation? derogatory language?? mild exhibitionism? sex will be in ch 2 so heed the tags uwu
> 
> Title & chapter titles are from Hayley Williams' [ Sudden Desire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MByUQJQrLI)
> 
> excuse me while i project onto jonathan sims

Jon loves lazy afternoons like this: Sundays where Elias only goes to the Institute in the mornings, and Jon gets to hoard his attention the whole rest of the day. Jon doesn’t hold it against him; he’s a workaholic, too, and he understands the urge to spend every waking moment in that temple of knowledge. Still, it’s nice. Elias is sitting in his armchair by the fire and Jon is curled up in one corner of the couch. Light is streaming in through the open window, and, in Jon’s opinion, the only thing that could make it better would be a cat on his lap. He has the thought, and the next thing he sees on his dashboard is someone dressed up in cat ears and a collar that says ‘slut’ in big silver letters. Jon stifles a squeak and quickly scrolls away. He cuts a glance over to Elias, who raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything or look up from his book. Jon shakes his head and turns back to his phone. It’s one of those new iphones, and it goes to the internet and shows full webpages on its glossy screen like it’s a tiny computer. He loves it, and when Elias had given him it, he’d only asked that Jon send him ‘pictures of your cute face every once in a while,’ which Jon had dutifully done, among other things. He scrolls back up the page and clicks guiltily on the blog. The whole thing is pink and pastel, little aesthetic mood boards and glass sex toys. Jon pauses on a photoset of a cat playset and stares, a bit wistfully. 

Elias is looking over his shoulder, he realizes suddenly. Jon squeaks in surprise and throws his phone to the other end of the couch. Elias lets out a genuine laugh, which had delighted Jon the first time he’d heard it. Elias’ real laugh is a bit nasally, and if Jon can get him to laugh long enough, Elias has been known to snort sometimes. It’s endlessly endearing, and Jon lives to make that noise come out of him. Maybe not so much this time though, and he really hasn’t thought things through because Elias presses his heavy hands down onto Jon’s shoulders and slides them down to fondle his chest a bit. Jon squirms. He’s been slowly getting used to the way his body reacts to the touching that Elias like to do, but sometimes he just can’t keep his reactions inside and he has to squirm or wiggle. Elias has told him it’s cute, so he’s trying to be less embarrassed about it. Or maybe not. Elias loves to watch him squirm in embarrassment, too. Elias squeezes him before pulling away to retrieve Jon’s phone. He unlocks it and scrolls back up the webpage with one elegant eyebrow raised. Jon covers his face with his hands. 

“Mon petit,” Elias coos, “You could have just told me you wanted to be a pretty kitty for me.” Jon squeals into his hands and stomps his feet on the couch cushion in pure embarrassment. Elias laughs mockingly, voice dipping lower. “You orchestrated this whole scenario just to let me catch a glimpse of your little fetish, didn’t you, Jonathan?”

“No!” Jon denies from behind his hands. Elias’ hands are gripping his wrists all of a sudden, and he pulls Jon’s hands away from his face. He’s wearing that infernal smile that, through some terrible pavlovian response, always makes Jon wet. He puts one knee up onto the couch beside Jon and presses him into the arm of it. 

“You can be my pet, mon petit, I won’t stop you. Do you want to sit at my feet while I read the morning paper? Crawl into my lap and get stroked? Want to sleep at the end of the bed? Want me to get you a pretty pink collar? Put a bell on you?” Jon buries his face in Elias’ chest, embarrassed. Elias lets go of his wrists and pulls him bodily into his lap. He puts a heavy hand on the back of Jon’s neck and holds him close, lips brushing his ear. “Baby boy. Tell me what you want. We’ve talked about this; you have to ask me.”

Jon whines in distress. “I—I just like the aesthetics! I l-like the pink?” He feels almost guilty for liking how _pretty_ they are, the panty bloggers or whatever they’re called. He knows he’s a man, so it feels strange to be so fascinated by the pretty pink filtered photos of pretty twinks in kitty cat costumes. And he knows himself; he isn’t particularly attracted to them; he wants that for himself. He bites his lip as hard as he can. Elias makes an interested noise and slides his hand into Jon’s hair. It’s a bit shaggy right now; Jon hasn’t gotten a haircut in probably too long. Elias tips Jon’s head backwards and squeezes his cheeks to force him to open his mouth.

“Mon petit, you can be pretty if you want. I want to see you be pretty.”

“You just want to fuck me while I wear cat ears,” Jon rebuts sullenly.

“It can be both.”

“I j-just.”

“Mm?”

“I wouldn’t mind, erm. Being your pet.” Whispers Jon. “If you wanted.”

“What was that?” asks Elias. “I didn’t quite hear you.” Jon mumbles half a request out again, cheeks hot and mouth twisted anxiously. “No, still didn’t catch that,” Elias says, voice going a bit hard.

“Please, Elias!” Jon whines. Elias’ hand tightens in his hair. His voice is stone.

“You must ask, mon petit. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I want to be your pet! I want you to own me and call me pretty and collar me! Please,” Jon wails, finally. He is glad, somewhere in the back of his head, that Elias lives in such a nice flat, because if the walls were any thinner, if the neighbours could hear, he’d never be able to live with himself. Elias’ hand tightens briefly and then loosens.

“Hmm. My own little kitten. Shall we find you a collar, mon petit?”

“I’d like that,” Jon says in a small voice.

“I’m sure there’s a reputable leatherworker somewhere in this city. Run along, go get dressed, It’s time to get my kitten outfitted.” Elias near-about pushes him off the couch and Jon stumbles toward the bedroom, flushed with embarrassment and excitement. 

They go to a leather worker in the city, and Elias spends nearly an hour looking at swatches, holding them up against Jon to see the colour contrast, humming and hawing over designs and linings. The shop owner, a well-built man with dark eyes and a round, happy face, just smiles indulgently the whole time, even as Jon gets progressively more embarrassed. It hadn’t felt like this when Elias forced him into the tailor’s, because _Jon_ asked for it this time, no matter whose standards they must meet now. When Elias was dressing him up like a doll in Mrs. Orsinov’s creepy little shop, Jon had been a bit distracted by all the hands on him, and the strange dress forms that seemed to be looking at him, despite their lack of heads. Here, he’s just sort of standing around, waiting for Elias to make a choice.

The shop owner must take pity on Jon after a while, because he leans in and says, “It’s okay, kiddo, every dom we get in here does something like this; a good collar’s supposed to last nearly forever.” He chuckles and taps a handsome leather band around his left wrist. “It’s as good as a wedding band, by my estimation,” 

“Right,” Jon stutters out, face hot. Elias brings over a swatch of creamy ivory leather which he holds up to Jon’s face. “This isn’t even what I usually look like, Elias,”

“Oh? So you mean to tell me that you don’t spend most hours of the day trembling under that fetching blush? Shall I get my eyes checked?” Elias takes his chin in hand and turns his face this way and that while Jon splutters a denial. Elias gives him a mischievous grin and presses a brief kiss to his forehead. “See how this feels, mon petit, I do like the colour on you.” Jon takes the little square of leather from him and turns it over in his hands. It’s soft and a bit stiff, though the edges are more worn, likely from handling. Jon thumbs over a corner, which is buttery smooth, and smiles a bit. He certainly would look good in it. He knows himself, and, with Elias’ encouragement, he’s been more open to showing himself off. He knows he looks good in light colours; the contrast highlights the rich tone of his skin. 

“I like it,” Jon confesses.

“Pretty enough for you?”

“Yes,”

“Perfect.”

Elias takes him around to a few different shops, where they pick out a few new toys and thoroughly embarrass Jon. Elias has something of a fetish for it, really. Jon privately thinks that Elias should just suggest they indulge his exhibitionist kink instead of doing _this_. Jon will deny to the grave that he shares a similar kink, but he’s certainly willing to participate if Elias insists.

Elias drives him back up to oxford with a box of new, pretty things in the boot. Jon usually just takes the train; he hates having to inconvenience Elias any more than he already does. Elias had just given him that look, the one that shoots straight through his skin and skull and reads the scrawlings on the surface of his brain, and told him to get into the car. Jon’s nothing if not good at following orders.

Elias is a very focused driver. He likes the car to be quiet so he can listen out for other motorists and the like, but sometimes he’ll play classical music or jazz on the CD player. The whole ride up, Elias rests his big, elegant hand on Jon’s thigh. He hums along every once in a while, taps his fingers. There is a freckle on his pointer finger, an old burn scar on the back of his hand. It’s just a small thing, a tiny horizontal mark that he probably got from an oven rack. Still, Jon focuses on it. He loves Elias’ hands. They’re one of the first things he’d noticed about him. Elias puts those heavy, steady hands on him all the time, confident in his welcome. Elias isn’t the type who asks permission. It’s strangely comforting in its possessiveness. Sometimes when Jon feels fizzy and anxious, Elias’ hands are the thing before even gravity which keep him stuck to the surface of the planet.

Jon tentatively puts his hand near where Elias’ is resting, eyes glued to Elias’ face. His mouth twitches like he’s trying to stop a smile and he turns his hand over in offering. Jon, flush faced, grabs his hand and laces their fingers together, turning hurriedly away to look out the window. As much as he appreciates Elias’ smug face, he’s too flustered to see it right now. Elias brings their joined hands up to his mouth and presses a brief smooch to the back of Jon’s hand before settling them back in his lap. Jon huffs out a delighted breath and squeezes his hand. Elias squeezes back.

\--

He doesn’t spend every moment of his life at Elias’ flat, but it feels like it sometimes. He spends weekends there usually, even though Elias likes to go into the Institute on Saturdays. Jon’s the type to wake up at 6 naturally, and sometimes if he’s feeling particularly generous he’ll wake Elias up with a mouth on his cock. It’s not his favorite activity when Elias isn’t awake, because he really prefers when Elias pets him and pulls his hair and calls him a perfect slut, but he likes the contented noises Elias makes in his sleep, and the pleased look Elias gets when he does finally awake. There’s really so little Jon wouldn’t do if he got that pleased look. 

But he’s at Elias’ flat when the parcel comes. It’s in a regular box, mailing sticker slapped on like any other might be, so Jon doesn’t think twice about slicing it open on the kitchen bench, the knife he was using to chop up peppers still a bit sticky with juice, but it’s only a box, so he doesn’t see the harm. He promises himself that he’ll wash the knife before continuing his cooking. 

Inside the parcel is his collar. Jon squeals in his excitement and flaps his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s been anxiously awaiting the collar for several weeks now, and while they’d done a bit of play without it, Jon’s been _reasonably_ excited about it, no matter how much Elias has been bullying him about it. He puts the box in Elias’ bedroom and heads back to the kitchen to finish cooking. He dances around as he cooks, singing along to the radio. He’s so into his performance that he doesn’t notice Elias come in until he spins and sees him leaning in the doorway. The notes stutter to a stop with a strangled squeak and he drops the spatula in his surprise.

Elias hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet, though he ditched his coat and shoes at the door. It’s been rainy all week and Elias hadn’t bothered with pomade that morning, so his hair is curling damply where it’s flopped over his forehead. Jon had been delighted to realize that Elias was so against formal wear at home, and on the weekends he rarely went for a full suit at the institute. He’d made some comment about how he ‘ran the place, he should get to dress how ever he wanted, this wasn’t the Victorian era, he should know.’ Jon rather likes it, though. He’s a pretty buttoned-up person, but Elias’s casual wear is comfortably oversized and he’d gotten into the habit of just tossing one of Elias’ loose t-shirts on over top of his boxers when he knew he’d be inside all day. Elias is so tall, and his shoulders are so wide that even his tightest t-shirt is pretty loose on Jon’s diminutive form. 

“What’s got you all riled up, petit chou?” Asks Elias, stepping into the kitchen. Jon wiggles in excitement before he can calm himself, and dips to pick up the spatula. 

“My collar came!”

“My, that _is_ exciting,” Elias drawls, putting a hand on Jon’s hip as he steps around him towards the fridge. “I suppose you want something from me?”

“Yes, sir,” Jon turns on the biggest puppy eyes he can muster. Elias chuckles and pours himself a glass of cold brew. Jon squints at him. That’s going to clash terribly with the rice and peas he’s made for lunch, and Elias knows it. Elias raises his eyebrows.

“How about I take the day tomorrow, spend it with my kitten?”

Jon bites his lips to keep the thrilled noise in. He nods vigorously.

“What was that, mon petit?”

“Yes, sir, please, I’d like that,” Jon babbles, clutching the spatula to his chest and nearly vibrating in his enthusiasm. Elias gives him an indulgent smile and sets his glass down. He reels Jon into an embrace, relieving him of his spatula. Jon tips his head back to meet his eyes.

“Pretty thing,” Elias murmurs, thumbs his bottom lip. Jon can’t help but flick his tongue out to taste it. “I suppose I’ve a bit more paperwork to finish up. Call me for lunch, won’t you?”

“Okay,” Jon breathes.

“Hm. Okay,” Elias mocks gently as he leans down for a kiss. He leaves Jon in the kitchen, flustered and delighted.


	2. don’t look in my eyes I feel a sudden desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My, you do look pretty, mon petit.” Elias walks around him like he’s a piece of art at a particularly pretentious gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE AND NOW I HAVE TO ADD A THIRD CHAPTER
> 
> CWs: Jon goes into subspace too quickly & drops when Elias tries to fix the issue. that's a pretty short part, if you wanna skip it just go to the break! Other than that, heed the tags! :)
> 
> Language used in reference to Jon's anatomy: chest, nipples, clit, pussy, folds, hole
> 
> thx for reading! look forward to more pet-y pet play next chapter :)

Elias has him kneel in front of the big panoramic window. Of course he does, really, he loves fucking Jon in front of the window, loves whispering in his ear about what a slut he is, always so keen to get fucked that he doesn’t even wait ‘til he’s sure they’re in private. It turns Jon on enough that he’s reluctant to point out the hypocrisy lest Elias stop. The sun’s low in the sky by the time Elias is standing in front of him, handsome ivory collar held delicately in his hands. It is detailed with green contrast stitching and gold hardware. Jon is trembling with his excitement. 

“Did you want something, baby boy?” Elias prompts, examining the collar with a critical eye. The interior lining has a faint pattern of diamonds, Jon thinks, but he’s not quite sure what the shapes are. He puts on puppy dog eyes and touches Elias’ leg hesitantly.

“Will you collar me, sir?”

“Asking for it on the first try,” Elias compliments, brushing an affectionate hand through his hair. Jon nods, nuzzling Elias’ arm coyly. “My, but you _are_ cute kitten. Aren’t we glad I found you in that alley?” Jon can’t suppress the embarrassed flush as he nods. Elias gets a solid handful of his hair and tilts his head back. He brandishes the collar, “shall I put this on you?”

“Y-Yes, sir, please, sir, can I have the collar?” Jon blathers, far too excited to make pretty requests. Elias smiles indulgently and takes his hand out of his hair. He unbuckles the collar, pauses. Jon whines in the back of his throat. “Please,”

“Since you asked so politely,” Elias concedes. He bends to place the collar around Jon’s neck. He buckles it just this side of too tight, and hooks two fingers into it to test the fit. It is not heavy, but it _feels_ weighty. It makes him feel a bit like he’s floating through space, and he lets out a little moan that Elias laughs at. “Does that feel good, kitten?”

“Mn…yes…” Jon replies, mind slogging through honey. He’d been riled up all day about it, near bouncing off the walls, but now that he’s wearing it, this comforting band of ownership and belonging settled around his neck, he feels relaxed, content. He’s been in subspace before, but he’s never felt like this, and certainly not so quickly, all Elias has done is call him some pet names and put a collar on him and he’s turned to melted caramel. Elias pets him with one hand, the other still hooked into the front of his collar.

“Is that my pretty kitten?” he chuckles. Jon makes a soft noise that couldn’t be even charitably called a word. Elias laughs in delight. “Oh, pretty thing, this might be a bit tight on you; you can barely form a coherent thought. Shall we take it off?”

“n…No…!” Jon moans, grabbing clumsily at his arm. He whimpers. “I love it, sir, you promised I’d be your kitty,” He’s trying to hold back tears at the though of Elias not wanting to be his owner anymore. What did he do? Elias coos down at him before pulling him bodily to his feet. Jon stumbles into his embrace and Elias scoops him up. 

“It’s alright, baby boy, you can keep it on. You’re still mine. We may just need to adjust it, hm?” He carries Jon to the bedroom, where he lays him down carefully. Jon clutches at his hands so he can’t go too far. If Elias leaves him, he’ll be alone again. He’s _always_ alone, no matter how hard he clings onto the people in his life, they always leave him. He can’t suppress a sob. Elias tuts, and reaches for the buckle on his collar. Jon tries his best to cry silently, he knows his grandmother always hated it when he cried too loud, and he doesn’t want Elias to hate him any more than he already does. Elias messes with the buckle before clasping it back into place. It takes him a few moments to realize that he’s still wearing it. He sobs in relief, reaching desperately for his owner. Elias takes a seat on the bed and drags him into his lap. He pets Jon as he clings and sobs into his shoulder. He’s not even sure what caused his immediate catastrophizing, he doesn’t usually get sub drop, and especially not in the middle of a scene he’s been waiting for for weeks. 

“It’s not fair,” He whines into Elias’ shoulder. Elias clucks his tongue and puts a heavy hand at the top of his spine. 

“I know, mon coeur, but you’ll be alright, hm? There’s always tomorrow for some play time. As for tonight, we’ll just take it slow, would you like that?”

“Yes,” says Jon in a small voice. Elias hums, pleased, and scoots them gracelessly up the bed, until he can rest comfortably against the headboard. He situates Jon so that he’s straddling his lap and picks up his book from the bedside table. He tucks Jon more securely to his chest and hooks his chin over Jon’s thin shoulder. He feels like a pampered little creature, curled up to his owner for warmth and safety. He sighs and closes his eyes. It’ll be alright if he rests a little while. 

.

Jon wakes at nearly 8 in the morning, groggy and confused. He’s an early riser, and he certainly hasn’t ever had the privilege of having a lie-in before. He makes a grumpy sound and reaches across the bed, looking for Elias. His hands meet empty sheets, but they’re still warm, and he’s still tired, so he rolls over onto Elias’ side and buries his face in his pillow. It smells like him, all coconut and musk and citrus. Jon likes to tease him about smelling like tropical breeze, but if he’s honest, it’s not nearly so sweet as that, and it really is so addicting a scent.

As he nuzzles deeper into the bedding, Jon comes to the realization that he’s still wearing his collar. Elias had woken him after he fell asleep the night before, doted on him, made him drink juice and eat half a granola bar to get some electrolytes back. Jon had fallen back to sleep pretty quickly after that, though he usually had a harder time of it. He’s glad to see that Elias didn’t remove the collar while he was asleep, and Jon supposes that Elias may not have wanted to wake him. Elias is so considerate that way. 

Jon dozes for a while more before getting bored and getting up. On the ottoman at the end of the bed, there’s a folded pullover with Jon’s ears and tail set on top. Elias usually likes giving orders in person, but Jon figures this is pretty self-explanatory. He picks up the tail. It’s his favorite one, sleek and black, with a slim plug attachment. He’s pretty neutral on ass play, but having a _real_ tail, attached to him, is preferable to some sort of belt that might get in the way of things, and, more importantly, ruin his precious aesthetics. He really is a bit militant with his aesthetics. It’s something he and Elias share.

Jon takes a fortifying breath as he steps into Elias’ study, clutching the ends of his sleeves nervously. He’s not sure _what_ he’s so nervous about, this is supposed to be fun, and they’ve done similar things before as well. He just wants to impress Elias. He wants Elias to like him like this. He certainly doesn’t want a repeat of whatever the hell last night was, but he’s not so stupid as to think it could all be attributed to the relative tightness of his collar. Elias turns his heavy gaze onto Jon, who tries to stifle the embarrassed noise and hide the blush by putting his hands over his cheeks. The sleeves of Elias’ pullover are too long for him, they cover his hands. Elias rests his chin on his hand, smiling indulgently. He doesn’t say anything until Jon pulls his hands away.

“Are you feeling better, kitten?” Jon nods, shy, and curls his hands together. “I’m glad. Come here.”

Jon crosses the room, hoping to kneel at Elias’ feet for a while to get his bearings, but Elias stands and comes around to the front of the desk. He’s got a ridiculous smoking jacket on over his boxers, but it doesn’t look out of place on him. He really is a ridiculous man. Jon comes to a stop juts in front of him, and Elias steps into his space to kiss his pliant mouth.

“My, you do look pretty, mon petit.” Elias walks around him like he’s a piece of art at a particularly pretentious gallery. He reaches out and tugs on Jon’s tail. Jon jumps and squeals. “Oh, I’m sorry, kitten,” Elias simpers, and pulls him into his chest. He slips his hands under Jon’s pullover “Did I hurt your little tail?”

“Elias,” Jon whines, struggling in his embrace. Elias’ big hands trawl roughly across his waist and up his chest. “You can’t—ah!” Elias tugs lightly on a nipple ring and pinches his tummy.

“Hm? What was that princess?” Elias’ voice has that excited tinge to it, that slight lilting accent that peeks out when he’s not monitoring himself as strictly. He skitters his fingers across Jon’s ribs, making him squeal and giggle, struggling. “Was _my pet_ going to tell me what _I_ should and should not do?”

“No!” Jon squeals. Elias laughs into his ear, nips at his neck just above the collar. He slides his hands up and down his ribs, lightly. Jon squirms. It _tickles_.

“Don’t worry, kitten, we’ll train you up.” He pushes the pullover further up Jon’s chest and runs his hand gently across Jon’s collar bones. It’s so much, and Jon squirms, trying his hardest to stifle the little squeaks and bursts of laughter that want to come out. “Let’s take this off, shall we?” Elias murmurs, teeth brushing against Jon’s earlobe. Jon nods and Elias helps him out of the offending garment. The room is cool, but not uncomfortably so, especially with Elias’ warmth at his back. Elias starts _tickling him_ elegant hands digging into all the sensitive spots up and down his ribs. He can’t hold back his laughter, and Elias is obviously pleased, if the excited little sounds he drops into Jon’s ear are any indication. He drags gentle teeth across Jon’s neck, bites him right at the juncture where his shoulder and neck meet. 

“S-Sir!” Jon squeals through laughter, “S-stop! It hu-rts!” Elias snorts into his ear, nips at his neck.

“It doesn’t hurt, princess, you’ve taken it harder than this,” He keeps tickling Jon until he’s gasping for air, sides split and knees weak. He’s clutching onto Elias’ arms and Elias is laughing, too, muttering filthy praise into his ear. He eventually guides Jon over to the chaise by the fire, lays them down with Jon cuddled into his lap. Jon is taken with the desperate need to kiss him, and throws his arms around Elias’ shoulders, twisting awkwardly to meet his lips. He giggles, a bit deliriously, into Elias’ mouth. His body feels tingly and over sensitized, and he shivers when Elias drags his hands up and down his thighs. Jon eventually takes the initiative to rearrange himself so he’s straddling Elias’ lap. Elias hums and bites him again. Jon’s never been gladder that winter is coming along, because Elias is a menace with making marks, and Jon has to either bundle up in scarves and turtlenecks, or be stared at, no matter where he goes. 

Elias catches the back of his collar with one hand and tugs on it, making Jon huff out a soft breath and flex his hands on Elias’ shoulders. 

“Who do you belong to, princess? Hm? You’ve got a collar but no tags.” Elias considers him. 

“I belong to you, sir, y-you’re my owner,” Jon tells him bashfully. Elias hums in contentment, letting go of his collar, and dragging his hands back down Jon’s bare back to his ass, which he grips possessively.

“And what about this? Who does this pretty arse belong to?”

“Mh, you, sir,” Jon drops his head onto Elias’ shoulder and arches his back, giving his owner more room as he slides his hands further forward, towards where Jon is hot and dripping. 

“Oh, precious thing, you’re so wet for me,” praises Elias. “Is this pussy for me as well?”

“Yes!” 

“I _am_ lucky, aren’t I?” He pets over Jon’s folds, avoiding his clit. Jon’s not very experienced, most of his sexual activity has been with Elias, so he’s not sure what about this condescending, possessive tone that turns him on so much. Elias spreads Jon’s thighs wider, gives himself better access. He touches Jon like he’s a doll, a toy to be played with at his whim. Jon’s not…he doesn’t quite disagree with the sentiment, as it were. He’s still in the habit of being as quiet as he possibly can, even though he knows how much Elias likes his noises, but he can’t stop the long moan that tumbles out of his throat when Elias finally presses a finger into him. Elias makes a pleased noise in response and Jon nudges closer into his space so they can share a kiss. Elias obliges him awhile, kissing him as he fingers him open. Jon paws at Elias, fingers clumsy with arousal as he tries to undo the stupid knot at the front of his robe. He’s _ready_ ; he wants Elias’ cock. 

“Please, sir, can I have—will you—?” Jon’s trying his best to keep the whininess out of his voice, but Elias still laughs at him, licks at his mouth, spreads his fingers wide enough that Jon can’t hold back a shuddering moan. 

“I can’t quite tell what you want, princess, you’ll have to ask prettier than that.”

“I want—I want—ah!” Elias pinches his clit and he can’t think for a moment. He drags his cheek across Elias’ shoulder. 

“Hm?”

“M-master! Please, f-fuck me!” Jon wails, and Elias _growls_. The world shifts dizzily as Elias flips him onto his back, near frantic in his quest to disrobe himself. 

“Say it again,” He orders, presses the head of his cock against Jon’s hole. 

“Master,” Jon moans, “Master, please!” Elias groans into his neck, bites him again as he pushes in. Jon barely chokes back a sob and wraps himself around his owner. He feels so _full_ , he doesn’t want Elias to ever leave him, they should be like this forever, he thinks, deliriously. He moans mournfully when Elias pulls back, nearly all the way, but he’s not left bereft for long; Elias thrusts back in, as sets himself a brutal rhythm that makes Jon whimper and scrabble at his back. 

“So perfect for me,” Elias pants, “you were made for me, petit, you belong to me.”

“Yes, yes, yours, master,”

“Tell me you belong to me, petit.” 

“I-ah-I belong to you, I’m yours, all yours!” Elias changes angles and thrusts particularly hard, hitting that spot that makes Jon see stars, and he sobs and clutches at his master. Elias grunts and keeps bashing that spot, until Jon can’t take it anymore. He gasps Elias’ name as he comes, wrapping his arms around his shoulders to try and keep him close. Elias lets up a bit, but keeps fucking him through it, the curve of his handsome mouth tucked into the space behind Jon’s ear as he mutters nonsensical praise and possessive platitudes. He slows down, and Jon realizes suddenly that he means to pull out before finishing. He moans, despondent, tries to will his weak legs to tighten around Elias’ hips.

“No,” he whines, “in me, please, in me,” 

“You’re perfect, princess,” Elias groans, thrusts two, three more times before his hips stutter and Jon sighs at the flood of warmth.

Elias kisses him on the forehead, then the mouth before he pulls out. Jon whines at the rush of slick and come that follows, but he can’t make himself move much. Elias laughs at him and tenderly cleans him up with some discarded garment or another. 

“Go ahead and rest, kitten, I think you’ve earned it,” Elias directs, draping Jon’s favorite blanket over him, and pressing yet another kiss to his pliant mouth. Jon thinks he says something in reply, but he’s already drifting off, so he can’t be sure.


	3. too far to go back now | just wanna feel his hands go down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mrow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, sometimes your dom calls you pet names and you have to take the L
> 
> no CWs just good kitty time :)

Elias has set out a fluffy pet bed in the sitting room. Jon’s eyes lock onto in when he shuffles out of the office, blanket clutched around his shoulders. Elias isn’t in the sitting room, though. He’s banging around in the kitchen, so Jon slowly approaches his pet bed, and curls himself up on it’s small surface. He assumes it’s a bed for a large dog, but even for someone as diminutive as himself, it’s a little bit of a squish to get himself situated properly. Elias doesn’t acknowledge him, though the living area is open concept enough that he’s visible from the kitchen. He’s fine with that, though; if he’s supposed to be a kitty, then he has the excuse to sleep almost all day. He puts his head on top of his folded hands and watches Elias in the kitchen. He’s wearing some ratty joggers, which sit low on his narrow hips. He’s humming quietly, some old song that he’d said that his mother used to sing him. He only sings when he’s happy, and he _does_ look rather happy, flitting around from the stove to the fridge. 

He's dozing off by the time Elias is done cooking. He starts when he notices how close Elias has gotten to him, standing just about a foot before him and holding a little scrap of bacon. 

“Ah, bon matin, mon chou," Elias coos. Jon makes a tired little noise. He doesn’t feel like talking right now, he’s still tired from earlier. “Did you have a good nap?” Jon remembers that he’s a kitty right now, he doesn’t _have to_ speak. He meows, tentatively. He’s not sure if Elias will like it, but his childhood special interest was cats and he’d gotten very good at cat noises. Elias’ smile is resplendent. He kneels and holds out the morsel. “Do you want a treat, mon petit?” Jon mews again, more confidently, uncurls himself from the pet bed, and crawls over to Elias. He takes the scrap and licks at his owner’s fingers. Elias pets his head gently, coos more French at him. Jon does not speak French, so he scowls up at his owner. He's not sure what's possessed him to treat him like a dumb animal when he was just fine with him talking earlier.

"What do you think, kitten, are you hungry?" His eye has that amused glint to it, like he knows something Jon doesn't. Jon decides, really quite suddenly, to be a little spiteful. He meows sweetly and presses his cheek to Elias' thigh. He nuzzles at his cock, yowls lowly. “Ah,” says Elias. Jon licks at his clothed cock, cuts a pleading look up at his owner. Elias grins wickedly and grabs a fistful of his hair. Jon whines as he’s pulled away. “You _are_ a little menace, aren’t you baby boy?” Jon meows plaintively. “Did you think you could just have anything you wanted?”

“Nn…” Jon starts to speak, but Elias pulls his hair, _hard_. He yowls lowly, struggles against the offending hand. Elias gentles him and pushes his head and shoulders into the carpet.

“Shh, kitten, hush now, be a good boy for me.” Jon moans in response and Elias loosens his grip slightly. Jon rubs his face into the rug, overtaken with a kind of embarrassed euphoria he can’t quite control. “You’re so easy for me, aren’t you?”

Jon mews, plaintive, because he doesn’t know if he _should_ be so easy for Elias. He’s not an easy person; he’s bitchy and mean and he spends his days prying other peoples’ prose apart and pecking at the marrow. He’s got exactly three friends and no parents, he’s not the type to go easy for _anyone_ , let alone some bureaucratic capitalist who’s older than his father would be. He can’t find it in himself to step away from Elias, though. He’s rapidly becoming the best part of Jon’s sad little life. Jon is constantly seeking his attention, constantly thinking of what he could do to please Elias, what he could do that would make him pause and take notice. He’s afraid of what it means for him. He _needs_ Elias, he’s learned that much from the whole debacle with Peter, but he’s so afraid of what that need means for him. He’s afraid, yes, but he’s still glad to have him. Elias takes such good care of him, no matter how much he thinks he deserves it, he’s spoiled and pampered, sometimes against his will. 

“Pretty pet,” interrupts Elias, “turn that quick little brain off for me, won’t you?” He strokes down Jon’s back, heavy hand soothing. He pats Jon’s ass, just lightly. It’s not a rebuke, Jon knows. He wiggles, wanting more, unsure how to ask for it. Elias hums, low in his chest, and strokes him again. He keeps petting Jon, occasionally tugging on his tail. “I have you, pet, no need to think, no need to speak. When you’re my kitty, you can just relax. All you have to do is listen to me, hm? No worrying, no fighting back. Just you and me. Can you do that, sweet kitten?” Jon meows, rubs his face on the carpet. Elias bends over him, letting his heft dwarf Jon’s trembling body. He hums in Jon’s ear, a contented, animal sound. Jon moans quietly, pushes back against the hardness he can feel pressing against his ass. Elias bites at his jaw, canines sharp but not uncomfortable. Jon is panting, he realizes, mouth open and breath sweet. Elias licks at his face, licks into his gaping mouth, guides him into a proper kiss. Jon is whimpering in the back of his throat. He starts struggling again. Not to get away, not to disobey, but to feel the way Elias’ strong, elegant body flexes against in him efforts to keep him still. Elias bares down on him more, growling low in his ear. It is nonsense to Jon, it is incomprehensible, he is a kitty, and they don’t speak whatever language Elias is spouting, mouth smiling against his, against his cheek. His master sounds happy, though, pleased at Jon’s careful straining. Jon can’t dislodge him, so he does a pleased wiggle and settles in his owner’s embrace. He lets out a satisfied little sound and Elias kisses his cheek.

Elias holds him down for a few more minutes before levering himself up and snapping at Jon. Jon slits his eyes up at Elias and flops over onto his back. Elias shakes his head fondly and goes to the kitchen. Jon sprawls out as Elias clatters about in the other room. It’s barely a minute before Elias calls his name. Jon rolls over laboriously, and meows grouchily up at his master as he makes his way to the kitchen. The tile is slightly chill under his paws. Elias is standing beside a set of bowls with his arms crossed. There is a classy ceramic bowl set carefully on a handsome wooden stand. Jon tilts his head up at his master with a curious mew. Elias raises his brow and places another bowl down. It is lightly steaming and smells divine. Jon meows in excitement and pushes his face against Elias’ lingering hand. Elias chuckles and gives him scritches. 

“You eat up, little kitten, we’ve got some training to do and you’ll need your strength.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this installment! i've never resolved a fic properly and i'm not abt to start now!  
> Thanks for reading *smooch*
> 
> You can find me on [ NSFW twitter ](https://twitter.com/maatition) if you're not a minor :)


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